


Little Surprises

by flannelcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelcastiel/pseuds/flannelcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought we were gonna let it be a surprise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I thought we were gonna let it be a surprise," Dean mutters sadly as he crosses his arms tight against his chest. He sticks out his lower lip, donning an expression Cas would call petulant.

But he doesn’t call Dean that, to his surprise. Instead, Cas touches his cheek. All glow-y and warm and kind, pregnant Cas is an enigma. And he always smells good too, like fresh baked pie and peanut butter. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Dean,” he says quietly, tilting Dean’s chin so that their eyes can meet. And they do, and Dean already feels his anger melting away like icepops in the heat of summer. “The nurse told me on accident.”

"We talked for months about if we wanted to know the sex of the baby, well. Our first baby." Dean’s instincts suddenly supply endless images of Cas swollen and full with their pups. Maybe they’ll have a full litter of them someday.

"Well I can’t unhear that we’re having a—"

"Shhh!!" Dean silences him. "I don’t want to know."

Castiel sighs, the first hint of impatience Dean’s seen all day. “Yes you do.”

"Why would I?"

"Because." Castiel smiles, pats his cheek playfully and rises from the couch. His balance sways, no doubt due to the extra ten pounds on his front. "You can’t stand it when I know something you don’t."


	2. Chapter 2

As Castiel pads away, he throws a mischievous smile over his shoulder. Dean stares after him, dumbfounded and mildly aroused by the implied follow me, chase me that dances in pheromones coming off Cas’s skin.

He doesn’t even try to argue with Cas’s early accusation, because it’s true. He hates not being in the loop. He hates that he missed the doctor’s appointment today because the garage just falls apart without Dean there on shipment day. And most of all, he hates it when Cas teases him with secrets and ‘privileged’ information. Admittedly, whispers and wordless glances are a complete turn on. But right now, he’s overwhelmed with a need to know.

Dean steps inside their master bedroom, where Cas’s scent is most potent. His little omega sit on the edge of the bed, one hand resting over his swollen tummy.

"What are we having," Dean murmurs as he rests against the doorframe.

Cas smirks. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

"Come on, don’t mess with me now.”

"You’re uncharacteristically whiny today, Dean," Castiel points out with slightly pursed lips. Amusement still gleams in his eyes, but Dean postures slightly, unimpressed. He crosses the room and grumpily sits down beside Cas, the matress bouncing and giving below his weight.

"Please?" Dean whispers, leaning into Cas slowly, their lips on a wonderful collision course. Their breaths mingle, desire coming off Cas in wafts. Dean’s sure that he smells like want, too. He wants a lot of things right now.

Just before their mouths meld together, Cas pulls away and draws his tongue across his lower lip. Dean’s stomach drops, fingers clenching the bedspread with kindled arousal and complete…frustration. “Patience…is a virtue, Dean.”

And then he pecks Dean’s lips, like a skipping stone caressing a pond. The simple kiss eases one kind of burn, but Cas’s beautiful pregnant glow is only a reminder of what he does not know.


	3. Chapter 3

The week drags on and Dean doesn’t get any happier about Cas keeping the sex of their baby a secret. Sometimes when he gets home from a tiresome day of work, Cas will peer up from his novel with a smile that both warms his heart and makes him want to punch a wall. And, at this point, Cas isn’t even  _trying_  to be cute about it. His stupid beautiful glow-y face does it by itself.

Alpha temper or no alpha temper, Dean can’t get angry at Cas for withholding information; he loves the guy too damn much. Regardless of the pup’s sex, he will love it too. And he also knows that Castiel’s intentions are good, though a little misplaced at this point. Dean really wanted to be surprised, he truly did. What Cas doesn’t get is that it’s completely spoiled when it isn’t  _both_  of them who will be surprised.

As Dean toes out of his work boots, Castiel sets down his book and makes a valiant attempt to stand up. It takes a little rocking and momentum to get going, and a little grunt his Castiel wills his stomach to be weightless for once.

"How was your day?" he asks Dean before pecking his alpha delicately on the lips. Or, at least it was supposed to be a peck. Before he could pull away completely, Dean’s got his hand on the back of Cas’s neck, pulling him close and giving his beautiful mate a proper, all-encompassing kiss.

After it breaks, Dean’s eyes still linger on Cas’s wonderfully red swollen lips, and then he smiles. “Better now.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but is clearly still flustered. Plus, Dean’s hand is still on his neck. He can  _feel_  the thrumming—more like hammering—of Cas’s heart under his fingers. “It’s about to get better.”


	4. Chapter 4

On instinct alone, Dean’s body draws tight like guitar strings newly tuned. “How exactly is my day getting better?” he asks slowly, because Cas’s skin sure doesn’t smell like sex—just  _mate, beloved_ —but his voice is on a dangerous line between sultry and temptation.

An unabashed smile spreads across Cas’s face and he holds up a finger. “One moment.” And then he turns on one heel and goes directly into the kitchen.

At a loss, Dean shrugs the prickle of of need away with a momentary hunch of his shoulders. “Okay…” he murmurs suspiciously, padding into the living room and then falling into the couch. Off his feet  _at last_.

"Do you want a beer?” Cas calls.

Usually the omega only offers Dean beer when he is trying to convince him to do something. Or if they’re celebrating. Sometimes both at the same time, like the night they spontaneously agreed, ‘what the hell, let’s have a baby’.

"No, I’m good," Dean says, patting his stomach. "Trying to cut the carbs. Maybe some tea?"

Moments later, Cas comes into the living room, a box wedged under his elbow and two glasses of tea. Dean rises to help Cas, reaching for the box. Cas flinches away.

"Just take your tea."

So Dean does, brows pinched as they both settle on the couch together. Their knees touch, and Dean feels unnerved and giddy all at once.

"What’re you up to, babe?" Dean pushes one hand across his mate’s knee, licking his lips as Cas so tenderly pushes into the touch. That box that was under his arm now lays idly in his lap. It’s a light, not-quite lime green with a white bow with matching green polk-a-dots. The shape of the lid reminds Dean vaguely of a gingerbread house. It’s…cute.

"I," Cas starts shyly, averting his gaze. "I got you something."

Dean snorts. “Is it my birthday again, already?”

"Just open it." Cas rolls his eyes and pushes the box out of his lap, across the bridge of their knees, and into Dean’s.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean tests the weight of the box in his hands. It’s fairly light, no more than the weight of a hubcap, he guesses.

"It isn’t a car, Dean, you don’t have to give the box a check-up." Dean peers up to see Cas grinning at him, despite the (most likely playful) annoyed note to his words.

Still heeding his mate’s words, Dean starts with the bow. It’s soft and silky, and gives when Dean pulls on the base of the not. You could hear a pin drop (or in this case, a bow unravel), when Dean finally tosses the ribbon aside.

His fingers skate the ribbed edges of the box’s top, thoughtful.

"Dude, you’re staring." It makes Dean self-conscious like he hasn’t been in years. Cas cocks a brow. "Is that a problem?"

Dean laughs breathlessly and shakes his head, pulling the box open.

Anticipation rumbles beneath Dean’s skin, and he doesn’t know why. He can practically feel the waves of excitement rolling off Cas, like sugar and pepper tickling at his senses. Inside the box is tissue paper and a white envelope, which is what he reaches for first.

"—Save that for last," Cas breathes.

Dean complies, setting it on Cas’s knee as he rustles through the tissue paper. He hears his mate’s breathing hitch before his mind can process what he is seeing.

It is a simple red and blue dress. It is certainly meant for summer—maybe forth of July.

The thread and design whispers nautical, and the little sailboat embroidered at the bottom of the dress confirms it.

He picks it up, feeling numbed by the sensation of the fabric soft against his skin.

But—but the dress. It could fit on his hand.

The pieces of his fragmented thoughts pull together with a profound gasp. His fingers clench at the little dress, every muscle in seizing.

"Cas," Dean mutters, voice cracking as years well in his eyes. He looks up finally, searching for his mate’s gaze.

When he finds it, there is a tight lipped smile reflected back, a few stray tears speckling Cas’s cheeks. Dean suddenly blinks and his own start to drizzle down his face.

Cas’s fingers find their way into Dean’s, nudging past the dress and closing every seam between them except their lips.

Dean needs those, needs them to ask—“Are we having a girl?”

Castiel nods, then mutters so delicately, “Yes, Dean.” He pulls Dean’s hands to his stomach, presses his palms flat to the swell of flesh. Dean makes a small noise, definitely  _not_  a whimper, when he feels the heat radiating throw Cas’s loose crew neck. His mate his child, all wrapped up in the beautiful body of an omega more beloved than he knows. Castiel smiles, closes his eyes, and says, “Daddy’s little girl.”


	6. Chapter 6

Fatherhood, it’s surreal.

Never has he stared into the eyes of a being and felt so much love; he can only describe it in terms of wonder. Staring into her—Mary Elise, that’s what they are calling her—eyes is more awe-inspiring than staring through a telescope and seeing the unfathomable, the galaxies that he would never touch but would always sparkle from afar. _  
_

Except, here, he held the greatest wonder in the universe. In two hands, swaddled in fleece. His baby.

Far be it from Dean to feel shamed or emasculated when tears well in his eyes, spill down his cheeks as he brings his daughter to his chest for the first time. This small  _human,_ eyes barely open and wide, nuzzles her little nose into the crease of Dean’s neck, her little sigh pitching a beautiful sound from her lungs. She scents him, her alpha father, her protector for forever and always—

Except, not always. Little girls grow up; are snatched away, find comfort not in the neck of her daddy’s scent, but a lover. Oh, this little bundle of wonder will leave him someday, and the awe passes with a dark melancholy that makes him grip Mary Elise tighter.

"Dean?"

Castiel must have woken by the baby’s sniffs, her little noises that are almost passive cries. Dean lifts himself out of the hospital chair and leans to press one free hand to Cas’s covered leg. Tired and pale, Castiel smiles weakly. So beautiful, Dean thinks. Even his pasty skin and dry lips make a swell of affection bloom in Dean’s chest, for the labor and the exhaustion are a result of bringing their child into the world.

"Hey babe," Dean responds weakly, sadness weaving its way around the two syllables. "Have a good nap?"

"Yes and no," Cas answers quickly, eying Mary Elise. "It is the most sound I have slept in months; it’s also the most stressful I have felt, not having her at least near me."

Dean offers his most charming smile, but it falters. He’s really tired too; the only chance for sleep he had was in the hours they waited for Cas to be completely dilated, and then the hour or so after Mary had her post-labor checkup. “We’re here now.” 

Cas softens, licking his lips, and then suddenly says, “I love you, so much. Can I hold…?”

"Yeah, of course." Dean moves to lay Mary Elise in his arms, but he shakes his head.

"I want to hold both of you—I mean, lay with me." He scoots over in the small bed, pulling his thin sheet back.

Dean’s lips press, and he obliges. Somehow, two full grown men and a brand new baby wedge into the hospital bed. Dean pushes aside the shoulder fabric of Cas’s gown, exposing their mating mark on his shoulder, and he mouths gentle kisses onto the bite. Castiel rolls Mary Elise onto his chest, contentedly sighing when he breathes in her soft, baby scent.

This moment, it’s perfect. Not that he should be surprised.


End file.
